Mr And Mrs Smith
by Crazyfangirl23
Summary: Whouffaldi au Clara and Twelve are both spies, but neither of them know the other is. Basically it's Mr and Mrs Smith done Whouffaldi style. Photo and insp. credited to rotanitsarcorpe
1. Chapter 1

Mr and Mrs Smith

So, this is my first Whouffaldi fic, and I read this from an au on tumblr which came with the picture, credits to rotanitsacorp. I can't wait for the new series and I love Whouffaldi so much, so I thought this would be a good idea.

Chapter 1

He can't know.

What Clara Smith was doing now he couldn't know about. She went out of her way to protect him from everything because she couldn't let him get tangled up in her secret life.

Everyone knew Clara Oswald, now Clara Smith. Everyone liked her.

But if you looked close enough, you could see the small scars on her forehead from knives and bullet wounds she hid from her unknowing husband.

But no one was suspicious enough to know what she was doing. What she had been doing since the day she met John Smith.

No doubt about it, she hadn't seen him coming. He strode into her life like a flying arrow and she had been overwhelmed with how ordinary he seemed. His wild, erratic hair she liked to ruffle despite his protests, the smiles he gave her when he thought she wasn't looking. The style of clothing he wore which he remained adamant was 'fashion', all the way down from the black sunglasses, the many shirts, the plaid trousers and the red velvet jacket she had grown fond of.

He couldn't know about anything. He believed she was at the school teaching English to students, but little did he know that was only her cover.

She was, in reality, a spy. A good one, too. In fact, if she didn't work for the protection of the country she could have been the deadliest assassin in the world.

She was on a case right now. Her thoughts were whizzing round her head subconsciously while she pulled the trigger to her silver plated gun and hit her target 20 yards away. She crouched down behind the Chevy and refilled her gun. She peered round the rear of the car as she edged forward, ready to fire if anyone came running at her.

She was currently on the most important mission of her life, and she couldn't let her thoughts run randomly wild. She had to stay focused and silent. Pushing thoughts of John out of her head, she rounded the corner and, looking to see if the coast was clear she set off running. She ran and ran, her black heels almost skimming the concrete as she hurtled herself toward the alley and away from the main car park. She had gotten used to running in heels by now, but UNIT often called her the 'Killer in Heels' because she was one of the only spies who could, but she preferred her code name, Impossible Girl.

She tried to map out the streets, trying to create a path in which to reach UNIT in time before more of her henchmen came. Yes, she was a psychopath alright. Proper bananas, but she wasn't to be taken lightly. The mission Clara was on right now was to steal vital information regarding the craziest psycho in history, Missy. And unfortunately for her, Clara had succeeded.

She ran off, paving her way throughout hidden streets and trying to commit a route by memory. She heard heavy footsteps distantly behind her and she ran faster, knowing they had caught up with her. Estimating ten others, she pulled the other gun out beneath her dress and held both of them firmly, her fingers on the triggers. She finally heard voices and shouting coming for her, and like a lightning bolt she turned around and fired at the men, trying to run while her back being turned.

Another shot. And another. She turned back and ran again, ending up on a much more familiar street from the one previously. Her breathing heavy, she realised that UNIT was only another street away. She could make it.

She hurried off again, but her running was cut short when she heard bangs from behind her, and a small bullet caught at the back of her ankle, making her trip. No sooner had she hit the pavement that the men were gaining closer, and she desperately hauled herself behind another car. She now had a decision. Run, run and run until she got to UNIT with them tailing her, or take one huge chance and stay to kill the remaining men off.

She thought of John again, the way he said her name in his beautiful Scottish accent, rolling off his tongue as he repeated it again and again. It rang in her head now, clear as a bell, and she knew what to do.

She sprang up in plain sight, ignoring the tenseness of her muscles in her ankle and the throbbing pain it had induced. She fired manically, her features cold but collected as she saw each man drop to the floor like rag dolls. She rounded the car, making sure they were all completely dead. Yep. She was sure no one could survive those shots to the head.

It was only now when she realised that of course, they had been shooting at her too. She reached her hand to her forehead, her fingers coming away bloody. Cursing, she put back her spare gun and ran once more toward UNIT, where she was congratulated on her success at finding the information and assisted medically with a wet cloth to her head.

She didn't know what to tell John this time.

••••

She can't know.

John Smith knew all too well how precious his Clara was to him, how innocent she would be to this double life he lead. He could never put her in danger, he would rather die. He loved her too much to tell her, show her, jeopardise her with the harsh truth.

That her husband was a spy.

He had been a spy for years, working under the alias The Doctor, but then he met her, and his life changed. He met her, and he knew she couldn't know what he did everyday when he went to work. He had tried to make out he was normal, which was actually going alright because she hadn't noticed anything abnormal yet. Yet.

Clara was inquisitive, the asking questions one, and as much as he tried to hide it he knew that she would find out one day. He dreaded to think what she'd say when she did. But for now, she was out of harm's way, teaching some Jane Austen or something to her normal students. A normal life.

He could almost feel her arms entangling him now, wrapping him into a hug as she nuzzled into his shoulder. He loved her short hair and her short height and her short legs that seemed to run surprisingly fast. He loved the way she would whisper his name at night, and how she always gave him a smile that made his blood run faster.

He took the gun and fired. They all fell down, like toy soldiers. His eyebrows furrowed angrily and his eyes became fire. He couldn't let her see him like this, a merciless killer that could kill someone without a seconds thought.

He ran away from the bodies, running headfirst into another. Out came his knife, flashing in the air as he struck toward the woman's chest, but she blocked it just in time. She swiped at his head and he ducked, having turned the other way. He sliced her skin and she scowled, her rage pent up and released, as she carved the knife into his neck. He yelled, but knew what to do. He took the knife in his hands and ran it across her knees, making her buckle and fall to the ground. With one final stab to the chest he set off running again, climbing the barbed wire hastily and jumping off to the other side, recognising where he was.

He sprinted toward Gallifrey, the spy base he worked for, and leaped into the hole in the ground that lead him there. Yep, Gallifrey was an underground base. It was very secretive and well disguised.

John landed in the white corridors of the base, walking toward the medical bay and getting the stitches in his neck.

His boss came in shortly after that, looking slightly intimidated as he always did around John. He didn't know why. Perhaps it was the eyebrows.

'John, I wanted to thank you for what you have done today. You came back in under half an hour, which is unbelievably fast. And as our best spy, I want you to work on a higher case. You did exceptionally well, but this case will be capably handed. I want you to work on the Missy case.'

John was shocked. He didn't know what to say to that. Missy was a mastermind, a psychopathic one at that, and he couldn't believe he had been assigned to her case. It was the most dangerous, important and risky one there was, but it didn't stop him from taking it. Although he would have to work his ass off and work a lot later in the afternoon.

He just didn't know what he'd tell Clara this time.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Warning! Loads of fluff alert

Clara opened the door to the living room, her keys between her teeth and a million things in her hands as she turned to shut it back. She set everything aside and saw John immediately at the kitchen counter. She walked toward the kitchen, where she immediately embraced him from behind, a peaceful smile clear on her calm face.

She always arrived home later because of the school time table and the fact teachers would have to stay an hour or two after, which didn't exactly agree with her, but it was enough time to get rid of the evidence from her secret life.

He turned round and there was that smile. The smile that distorted his features in a beautiful way and he embraced her fully there, kissing the top of her head silently.

He turned back, his attention back on the tea he was making.

'Do you want any tea?'

She nodded, smiling up at him still.

'That would be good,' she started, strolling back toward the living room, 'had a crazy day. Everyone was too distracted because it was so hot.' She lied, turning her back on him. She didn't like telling lies to his face.

'Oh yeah? Well the patients I had insisted they had pneumonia. Wasted my time checking them when it only came to be a minor flu. Some people just don't have a clue.' He said, just as he sunk down onto the couch with his tea in his hand, snuggling up to her side.

She chuckled. 'I always love it when you argue about something for no reason. Like bantering and annoying laughs and...what was it one time? The legitimacy of fictional characters?'

'Yeah, well, I have a lot on my mind. Especially if I'm treating annoying patients.'

She laughed again, leaning on him. He could make all of her worries go away.

'As it so happens, everyone thinks I'm so good at this doctor thing that they've promoted me. Told me to work on something bigger.'

Clara's round eyes dilated as she laughed incredulously.

'Really?'

'Really? No, I thought I might tell you that to get your hopes up, Clara. Of course it's 'really.'

'Shut up.'

'Make me.'

His eyes gave her that flattering look and his mouth twitched upward.

'But I will have to work a lot later and a lot harder for it. I hope that's okay...' He scratched the back of his head worriedly. He didn't like upsetting Clara and he never knew what she was going to say.

She nodded, sipping her tea. 'Yes, of course.'

'Oh, well that's good. Thought I might run that by you first. Anyway, what's on the TV?'

Her mind wondered while he was occupying himself with the controls and she felt a mixture of guilt and sadness. She hated lying to him, watching how he goes about with a normal life, how he believed that she was the person he could trust most in the world, and yet she was actually defying him.

But she knew that she shouldn't waste her time worrying about that. All she wanted, if anything, was a relatively normal and happy life with John. No matter what happened out there, she would always have his face to come home to and his warm Scottish voice and his long arms that wrapped around her smaller frame. She felt comfort at the thought.

'...and there isn't anything, isn't that a surprise? You pay money to have a TV and you end up not using it because there's all this crap on. Look Clara, look! There's nothing on Clara, nothing. Clara do you see anything good about this, Clara? Clara?'

She grinned. This was one of the reasons why she loved him.

His debate on TV's escalated to it being eventually turned off and Clara's eyebrows rising at his face.

They both laughed simultaneously, leaning on each other like inseparable magnets.

'You should have your own programme where you just moan for a whole episode. I'd pay a lot to see that.'

'Oh, would you now? And would you pay to see yourself being tickled to death?' His own eyebrows rose and his mouth turned into a wicked grin as he tackled her playfully and tickled her.

Clara squirmed, trying to force her way out of his tight embrace until she rolled to the floor, him on top of her, laughing.

'So what do you suggest we do instead?' She countered, getting to her feet.

'Well, I would like some food.'

'You've been here for three hours and you haven't eaten anything?'

'Not really.'

'Then what have you been doing?'

'Playing some chords. Being Doctor Rockstar! All that. I've actually figured out a riff that can be played to almost any other rock song starting with a C minor. And I suppose you want to become a waitress if you so demand I eat food. Should I place my order? Do you have a nice little blue 50's waitress dress?'

'No, but do you want me to buy one?' She asked, confused and bewildered by his nature at the same time.

'No,' he smiled, his eyes roaming her face with almost a lost expression, 'but you would look lovely.'

'Well,' she said, walking towards him and putting her arms round his neck, 'I think you should get something to eat for the both of us.'

'And why is it me? Remember Clara, waitress.'

'Because I've come home later and I'm really hungry and really tired.'

She widened her eyes, a dreamy smile passing over her face. His smile dropped mockingly and his attack eyebrows raised.

'What do you want? Chips? Coffee? Chips and coffee?' He said sarcastically.

'Coffee would be great, John.'

'You've had tea now you want coffee? God, you British.' He tutted, and she grinned.

'I need something to keep me awake.'

And why's that?' He strode away back into the kitchen.

'Because I don't like falling asleep when I'm with you. I'd rather fall asleep in class.'

'Hey, that's up to your students, not you. And you'd probably get sacked.'

She nodded in agreement.

'Well even if I did, it wouldn't affect us much, now you have that...promotion.' She teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

'Hey, now, do you want me to do your coffee or not?' He replied with mock annoyance. She pranced back up to him and hugged him again, breathing in the smell of him, of home. It constantly reminded her of a beautiful life that was worth living regardless of her secret one.

'Hey, John?' She asked, peering at the stitches she had just noticed in his neck.

'Yep?'

'How did you do that?' She pressed a finger lightly to the scar.

'I...uh...I hit myself...on a piece of equipment. Bent down and it was in the way.'

'It looks pretty serious, are you sure you're alright?'

'I'm fine, darling. Fine.'

'Hmmm.' She replied, her eyes doing the suspicious sweep that unnerved him a lot.

'I'm fine, Clara.' He reassured, and she sauntered back to the couch. She peered at the back of her shoe, making sure the scar was as invisible as she could make it. She self-consciously went to the bathroom too to check on her forehead wound, but it was all clear. The medical staff had done a good job. Sighing with relief, she turned back, watching John carry the coffee to her carefully. She took it gratefully, sitting back on the sofa and practically laying on him.

'What do you want now?' He asked.

'How do you always know?'

'Your eyes, they inflate to the size of a balloon.'

'I just have one more thing.' She pleaded, looking up at him with adoration that John could hardly resist.

'And what's that?' He said, calmer.

'I think my shoulders are tense. And it was a stressing day. Wouldn't mind a massage?'

He sighed but smiled at her, and she wiggled into the space in his lap as he started working on her shoulder blades.

She smiled. This was where he got sentimental. He joked, he laughed, he argued about pointless things and then as soon as he was really relaxed, his loving and sentimental side would show. She was the only one who saw it every day and it was her favourite part of him. He started to kiss her neck and her shoulders and Clara leaned into his chest with a sigh of appreciation. He managed to calm her so completely from the action-filled day she had had and her eyes fluttered closed as he continued on for another ten minutes. That was the thing with John. You ask him to do something, he will mockingly complain and then do it for hours until it was perfect. He sensed she was drifting off to sleep so he stopped and hugged her chest instead. It was silent, but it was mostly that way. When they didn't talk it was the deepest kind of love because they didn't know what to say, because they only needed the silent messages they conveyed between each other. The simplest thing would change her mood and soothe her.

They fell asleep together like that, his arms wrapped round her body and his head tilted backwards with her head just under his chin, and it was their kind of peace.

The last thing she thought of was the stressing day she would have tomorrow but the anticipation of seeing John's face again.

••••

He woke up in darkness, the house eerily silent and almost foreboding as he realised where he was. They had fallen asleep on the sofa, and he smiled faintly at her now, a small bundle resting peacefully against his chest. She looked so beautiful and calm and warm. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips twisted in a faint smile. He ran his hands up and down her arms and leant on her head, thinking of how lucky he was to be here, right now with the most beautiful woman in the world.

He smiled again at her sleeping face, and then carefully shuffled forward.

'Come on, Clara.' He said, standing up and carrying her up the stairs. He looked at her, wrapped in his arms, and once again marvelled at her legs dangling from her body. They were the most beautiful and perfect legs he'd seen, and the shortest too. He looked at her arms, one slung round his neck and his eyes shone with devotion.

He reached their bedroom, setting her down carefully next to him and kissing her forehead twice. Entangling her with his body again he drifted back to sleep, soothed by her warm breath on his neck and how she was safe and protected in his tight embrace.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Her head listed forward and she woke instantly. The first thing she saw was the white pillow her face had landed in, and then she knew where she was. But she didn't remember going to bed.

Her eyes fluttering open, she sat up, a hand scratching her head in confusion and yawning. She leaned back, resting her head on the headboard and realising how messy her bedhead was.

John came in then, smiling at her. She smiled sleepily back.

'What happened?' She laughed, rubbing her eyes.

'We fell asleep on the couch. I woke up maybe two or three hours later and I took you up to bed.'

She shook her head, grinning like an idiot.

John buttoned up his shirt and tugged his velvet jacket on, all the while Clara watched. He kept smiling at her, but with a laugh in his eyes. He must have done something. Looking down at herself, she saw only a bra and her skirt from last night.

'I woke up again and you were a thermometer. Boiling hot Clara. And as a doctor, I should know. So I had to take your top off.'

She raised her eyebrows. 'Anything else you took off me?'

'No, but I was thinking about it.' He grinned, turning his back to her and viewing himself in the mirror. He always wore a shirt and a jacket to work. Sometimes it was sunglasses to accompany it, which he had on now. Clara often asked him why he chose to look like a rockstar while examining his patients. But it was John. Anything was possible.

Her eyes widened, suddenly remembering.

'It's eight o'clock and you didn't wake me? Bloody hell, John!'

She lunged out of bed, putting on teacher-y clothes and watching him grin with amusement.

'Sorry, you just looked so peaceful, y'know, didn't want to wake you.' His Scottish accent made his words so much more wonderful to hear, but she was still angry.

'It's my job!'

'And didn't you say last night that it wouldn't matter as I now have a promotion?' He wiggled his eyebrows and flashed his hands in front of her, making her laugh despite. She sighed.

'Well, I've still got to teach people how read and write, thank you.'

She filed past him, doing up her blouse and entering the bathroom. Checking he wasn't behind her she readied her spying attire into her bag she carried and made sure her guns were still safely in there. She hurriedly brushed her teeth and returned to her bedroom, where John was busying himself with something in his draw.

'Right, gotta go, see ya.' She said, reaching up on tiptoe to kiss him and then disappearing down the stairs. As soon as she was outside she slowed her pace, not really needing to rush to her type of work. She did the teacher act really well.

As soon as she got to UNIT, she dressed herself again and readied herself with weapons. Today was a lot more serious than yesterday. Today she was going to be infiltrating Missy's place of work. She took in the instructions from her advisor and then set off alone. No one except the Impossible Girl was to carry out this mission. It was way too dangerous to pass over. She wasn't going to confront Missy yet. She needed to get familiar with her base and where some overlooked loopholes might be. She got there, looking round her, keeping a wary eye out for a guard of some kind. She sneaked in and took in her surroundings. She was in a square army green painted bunker with oblong shapes running both sides of the room.

She silently made her way to the nearest one and crouched beside it. She carefully lifted up the black cloth hiding the contents and it seemed to be a metal contraption of some kind. She needed to search for something to tell her what they are, and she made a mental note not to leave before she did. This could be huge. Definitely screaming 'homicidal psychopath.'

She tiptoed further through the room, taking a left through an open doorway and going up a flight of stairs.

Keeping to the wall, gun ready in hand, she wondered through the hallway, aiming toward the biggest door at the end of the corridor. It was mahogany, polished and clean. There was no plaque to tell her what it was, but judging by the size compared to the others she figured it was important. She tried the handle, just checking it was locked. She withdrew her hairpin and shoved it through the lock, twisting it until it clicked. Gun twitching in her hand she opened the door. There was a desk with two guards standing on front of it, now turning to shoot at her. She fired back, gunning them both down as easily as tying her hair back. She strode across the room, taking a look on the desk to see what they had been looking at. It was a book. A step-by-step book that instructed her on how to make metal bombs that had the atomic equivalent to blow out the country. Her eyes widened. She knew she was crazy, but she didn't know she was willing to take out a whole nation.

She rounded to the inside of the desk, noticing the two draws. One of them was locked, the other was bare. She pulled out another pin and hurriedly jammed it into the lock, figuring she didn't have much time. It pulled open, and she quickly snatched the files. Opening them, she read quickly, her eyebrows rising and her eyes widening with even more shock. It wasn't just the nation. It was the whole world! And apparently it was some sort of army, which explained the metal things. They were huge spare parts. Clara dreaded to think of what Missy was planning to do to the world if she got what she wanted. The information she had got yesterday was false. A diversion. Missy had played her game well. She sighed. At that time Clara had just begun to wonder why it had been so easy for her to access the information when an alarm sounded. Cursing, she shoved the file back into the draw, picked up the pin and ran off toward the door. And heard shouts and firing. She ran all the way down the stairs, shooting at the two guardsmen who she was greeted with. She fired at the anyone who was in her way, reaching the bunker and throwing herself down between the metal spare parts. She fired, then ducked. Fired and ducked. Fired and ducked. She sat with her head resting on the metal, breathing heavily. Thinking of John and how she would definitely see his face again tonight, she turned back round and fired until they were dead. But then something caught her eye. Someone was crouching beneath the metal contraption to the right of her at the front. She had just gotten a peek at his face, the eyebrows almost leaping out at her and she felt her body go numb with shock. It was John.

What the hell was he doing here?

She turned back round, her eyes sparkling and her breaths heavy, tears stuck in her throat. If she moved, he would probably think she was a guard, and shoot. Trying to gather herself up, she allowed a peek round the corner again, but he wasn't there. She took a moment to wipe forming tears from her eyes and to tighten her grip on her gun and then dived for the entrance, running out of the bunker. Noticing guards to her right she fired, only before she was sure that none of them were John. Rushing towards the gate she pulled herself up the watchtower, jumping across the open space to the other side and leap off it, on the other side and no longer in the compound. She set off again, navigating her way through the streets until she saw the car.

She jumped in, revving up the engine just in time before more guards came for her. Briefly appearing out the window she fired again, and then returned to driving. She drove it with a fury she didn't know she possessed, fury with Missy's plan, with the guards, with John...what was he doing here?

Feeling frustrated she pushed on the pedal harder, speeding beyond the limit but not caring. At last she reached UNIT, and she told them about the plan. She sat in the medical bay once again, and the nurse took one look at her and asked her the one thing she didn't want to hear.

'Are you okay?'

'I'm fine.' She tried to make it convincing, but her voice broke at the end. She couldn't comprehend it. Why had her husband been there? Was John working for Missy? She felt so confused and distraught and terrified.

Why John? Why him? It felt like her heart was breaking. Had he figured her out and come to investigate? Her head was full of questions she didn't have any answers to. But she knew what she had to do. She wasn't going to tell him. She wasn't going to ask. She would carry on like it was a normal enough day and hope he doesn't bring it up. With a shaky sigh she started to dress back to teacher clothes, hoping beyond hope he hadn't seen her.

••••

The alarms went off. He was in a room on the top floor of Missy's base and he was currently interrogating a workman.

He smiled up at him, his eyes like that of a demon's, and told him 'we've got you now.'

John smiled back coolly. He knew what to do. He had planned it all for this moment.

'Oh, I don't think so.'

He ran toward the open window and leaped out of it like a bird in flight. The rush of wind whipped his crazy hair and ruffled his jacket as he landed on the pillows he had set out. He rolled to the side, hearing shouting and shooting, and ran all the way round until he entered a room near the opposite set of stairs. Springing into action he tackled the guards, punching and shooting, until he saw her, and his heart stopped. Everything around him slowed, and he saw her short legs bounding down the stairs, her hair swishing around her and wearing a long black dress. His breathing got louder. He saw a quick flash of her gun as she started to shoot people down, and he was vaguely aware of someone pulling his collar backwards and throttling him. The guard rolled on top of him, hands around his throat. He tried to reach down, his hand just about reaching the hilt of the knife in his boot and stabbing the guard in the side of his head. He rolled again, under him, shaking the dejected body and tossing it to the ground. He had to find her. To make sure she was safe.

What was she doing here? She was attacking the guards so she couldn't have been an ally. She was probably the one to have set off the alarm. With panic, he ran toward the main room, a bunker with metal obstacles running along each side. He threw himself behind the first one, shooting at the guards one by one. He tried to look for her, but he couldn't see her anywhere. He peered toward the other metal contraptions, trying to see if she was there. Then a hand covered his mouth and he was dragged out the room.

Struggling, he punched the guard in the face, but she caught his wrists. She took out a gun, placing it at his head, laughing about something, but all he saw was red. Rage and fury and anger.

His legs kicked forward into the woman's back and she groaned, collapsing on him. Taking the gun quickly from her hands he fired at her head and she was heard no more. He wanted desperately to make sure Clara was okay but guards were starting to swarm the entrances and he needed to get out. At least he knew she wasn't unprotected.

He made his way to the stairs, knowing it was either this, or nothing. He climbed up to the roof, overlooking everything. It was a landing pad for a helicopter. John looked around, remembering the electric cable he had spotted. Running toward it, he grabbed hold of what looked like rungs and monkey-barred himself across. His feet were dangling in mid-air, thirty or forty feet above the ground. All he had was the grip on the wood, his hands digging into splinters and rough edges, but he didn't care. He focused on the neighbouring cable which was outside the compound, and after five minutes of monkey-barring, he finally made it. He held on to the cable, lowering himself down and jumping to the ground, rolling to break the fall. It seemed he liked rolling a lot. He ran, dodging the old cars and running for the streets, firing back occasionally just in case they were gaining on him.

After half an hour of running, he reached Gallifrey. Jumping down, he landed in the familiar white corridors and he broke down then and there.

He fell to his knees and caught his breath, his hands cradling his head. His ragged breathing only worsened the situation of trying not to cry, but he just about managed not to.

His chest was bubbling with fear and confusion and terror. It wasn't the way he had stabbed the man's head, or jumped out the window, or monkey-barred himself over thirty feet high. It was the fact he had seen Clara, gun ready, shooting guards down without even thinking. It was watching her kill, but doing it so beautifully, remembering how she ran down the stairs with such unexplainable grace.

He couldn't believe that was his Clara. His innocent, strong, beautiful, English-teaching Clara. His chest felt heavy with an invisible weight he couldn't describe.

His boss came down the hallway, helping him up, asking what had happened. He told him everything, except when he had unexpectedly seen his wife there.

'I can see why you're so distraught, Doctor. Having to climb that far and high, having to run that whole way...'

'No,' he thought to himself, 'you don't have a clue.'

He stood there as his boss strolled away, unaware of the blood pouring from his fists and his neck, not being able to move an inch, paralysed with terror.

He couldn't say anything to her or bring anything relevant up. He couldn't bear to tell her, to see her face fall at his words. His body went numb and his head fell in shame.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Her hands fumbling for the keys, she opened the door. They were shaking too much. Trying to put on a convincing smile, she called out 'I'm home!'

Her voice only slightly cracked at the end, but she hoped he didn't hear it. She set her bag somewhere safer, and walked toward the stairs, just as John came down them. She breathed a massive sigh of relief. The worst part of seeing him there was the fact that it could have been the last time.

He had a towel wrapped round his lower torso and his hair was flattened and wet. Such an ordinary thing to do, she thought, having a shower.

She embraced him, smelling the lemon soap powerful on his damp skin. She went on tip toes to kiss him, clinging on a lot longer than usual. But so was John. God, she hoped he hadn't seen her...

'Are you okay?' He said softly.

She nodded. 'I'm fine.'

She have him a smile, hugging him again tighter, John not in the slightest way protesting like he normally would.

He smiled down at her as well, a toothbrush in his hand.

'Did you miss me too much?' He joked.

Her chest sighed with relief. Maybe he hadn't seen her.

'Yeah, I guess so.' She laughed.

That was good. Getting back to her usual self.

'Well, I'll just dry off, figure our my hair and you can start on tea.'

'Tea? As in dinner? Are we eating, now?' She asked, eyebrows raised a little more confidently.

'Yes.' He leaned toward her, giving her a perfect view of his light blue eyes, almost turquoise like ripples on the sea.

'Okay.'

She made her way to the kitchen while he thumped up the stairs. Hopefully he hadn't guessed at anything from her behaviour.

She set about, making beans on toast for the both of them. They didn't care much for food, so didn't have much in the cupboards or the fridge, but once a while they would decide to eat if they were really hungry. She was actually hungrier than usual, probably from the shock she had gotten from seeing John. Her hands were starting to shake as she poured beans onto toast.

She felt two hands on her shoulders, and his nose nuzzling into her hair. A faint smile appeared, calming her. She turned round to see he had his pyjamas on, and she giggled, her head hitting his chest. She looked up to see his hair wild again, and his eyes twinkled at her.

She took the plates from the counter.

'Right, here we are.'

He moved from behind her, taking the plate from her hands and walking towards the couch.

She watched his receding figure, tall and thin and beautiful. Her heart pounded faster. She brought her plate along and snuggled up to him, her legs curled beneath her. They ate, sharing the usual conversation with each other, but the silence now was a lot more deadly and foreboding from the peaceful silence they had always had. There was a sense of unspoken words between them, like they were putting something off. Which they where.

They joked around and they grew eventually a lot more comfortable and at home. She embraced him again, reassuring herself that he was John Smith, he was real and he was hers.

He was holding on a lot tighter to her while they cuddled intensively, her head leant on his shoulder and her fingers stroking his hair.

'Never trust a hug, it's just a way to hide your face.'

••••

He stared at himself in the mirror, thinking about what had happened earlier today. It had scared him to death, which only made him want to kiss her to death.

His mind flickered over the images in his head, the gun shots, the stabbing, the blood, Clara running elegantly in that black dress.

He splashed himself with water, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

It seemed to be screaming at him, 'killer, killer, killer.'

'You're going to get her killed.' It said again, whispering at the back of his mind like death itself.

He splashed himself again, his eyebrows furrowing in anger at himself, at his love for Clara. Why couldn't they have both just lead a normal life? She was bound to find out now. And it would jeopardise their future, their plans, their normal home life, their trust. He felt sick at the thought.

He started to brush his teeth, when Clara came in, slipping her hands round his waist. She always liked hugging him from behind. He smiled at her in the mirror. He knew he should tell her, but he couldn't make himself do it. He looked at her small, round face looking at him in the mirror. They stared at each other for a moment, until he carried on brushing his teeth.

He noticed her closed eyes, a smile on her face, reaching the dimples he loved. But there was a tension in her forehead, like something was unsettling and bothering her.

He finished, holding onto her small hands that only just reached around his waist. She opened her eyes, smiling up at him warmly. He turned round to her, and he saw the beauty in her face, and it made his heart burst with love and his eyes almost well up. He took her head in his hands and kissed her forehead. He stared at her again, emotions running around him like rivers flowing up and down his body.

She was wearing her tank top and shorts pyjamas and he laughed. She laughed with him, and he wished he could freeze the moment in time forever.

He climbed into bed, watching her, watching each other in the dim light.

'John?' She whispered.

'Yes?'

'Would you still love me if I had lied to you about something...really big?'

He looked at her questioning face, the fear of rejection in her warm brown eyes. It melted his heart.

'Do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?' He told her.

He saw her face, her eyes glittering with tears he knew she wouldn't dare shed.

'But if I...if I had done something impossibly bad.'

'Clara Oswald...no matter what you do, I will still love you. My Clara, I will always love you.'

He stroked the side of her face, and her eyes fluttered closed.

It was difficult to put into words, but he felt he had done his best. He kissed her forehead again and went to sleep alongside her, forever knowing that he would always love Clara Oswald.


	5. Chapter 5

I would just like to give a massive thank you to everyone that followed, favourited, reviewed and even read this story. It means a lot to me, so thank you, and I'll make sure to post future chapters as soon as I possibly can xx

Chapter 5

Waking up the next morning was like still being in a dream, but then realising a minute later how reality was much harsher. That was what Clara thought when she struggled to sit up in bed, hair blocking her vision and her head almost dizzy, and remembering every little detail of the previous day. And that was certainly the burst in her safe and peaceful bubble.

She carefully climbed out of bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and checking the clock just in case she had woken up extremely late.

6:00am it told her. Her enormous eyes widened, her brain wondering how she had woken up so unexpectedly and early. She sighed tiredly, wondering round to the bathroom that was right next to the bedroom. She stood at the door, her sleepy eyes adjusting, until she saw her reflection in the mirror. She looked very pale, the darkness of her eyes standing out prominently in contrast to what probably looked more like a ghost's rather than a human's complexion. Her long dark eyelashes were drooping and her hair was a mess. But they weren't the reasons for her uneasiness. As she looked at herself in the mirror, drawing closer to it in curiosity, Clara swore she almost looked sick. She splashed water on her face, but it didn't affect anything other than a shock of coldness.

She looked around the room, her hand in her hair and her expression confused. She wondered tirelessly back into her bedroom, where she saw John lying, sound asleep. He must have been holding her while she slept, because his hands were wide out in front of him and his head tilted like he was nuzzling her hair with his nose.

She smiled at his peaceful frame, grateful that she had a wonderful, funny, gorgeous face to wake up too every morning.

But a wave of guilt washed over her like the sea leaving the damp sand; she desperately wanted to make sure he hadn't seen her yesterday, but a part of her brain knew that he had. The conversation, the prolonged kisses and hugs, they were too coincidental not to think that he hadn't seen her.

Her eyes roamed over him, her head leaning on the doorway, and her body felt cold and empty without his warmth.

She happily slid back into bed and sidled up to him, closing every space she could and sliding her legs through his so they were attached to each other. Her arm snaked it's way under his arm and just about reached his rock n' roll, neck-length hair and her head nestled itself under his chin.

She felt him stir and looked up at his eyes that were blinking out dust and sleep.

'What time is it?' He muttered.

'It's okay, we're fine.' She whispered.

'Are you okay?'

'Yeah. Sorry I woke you.'

He smirked, encircling her body and pressing a kiss to her hair.

'I wouldn't be sorry if I were you. You think I'd expect an apology when your up against me like this?'

She looked up at him and smiled, and he caught her lips almost unexpectedly.

His hands held on to her tighter and his kiss became more intense. He eventually rolled to the other side, making Clara giggle against his mouth as it took her by surprise. His large hands held her waist and his hair was as soft as cotton. Clara loved his hair so much, it felt exactly how a cloud would feel. It was fluffy and curly and huge, her hands delving into it and bouncing back like it was a trampoline. It was extra soft today because of the shampoo he had put on last night, and she could still smell the faint trace of lemon in it.

His hands moved up her legs, tucking each one on either side of him, then threading her hair in the same way she was fondling his.

He finally withdrew, quirking his mouth up into a half-smile, and yawning.

'I think we should probably go back to bed now.'

She smiled at him fondly, still absent-mindedly twirling his hair with her fingers.

'Yeah.' She agreed, and he gave her two more kisses, resting his head over her shoulder.

Clara Smith almost believed she had a normal life.

An hour later, and the alarm went off, snapping Clara out of her dream, and making her vulnerable once again to the harshness of reality, exactly like the first time had. She carefully slipped her head out from the crook of his shoulder and stared at John's still sleeping face. She stroked his hair, whispering his name, and he woke up in a dream state. Clara reluctantly coaxed him out of his bubble and into reality, and he groaned, turning his back on her and collapsing his face into the pillow.

'Come on.' She laughed, shaking his shoulder, to which a grunt responded in reply.

'John!' Laughing his name repeatedly, she rubbed his back soothingly and leaned over his face.

His hand swatted her away and he moaned about getting more sleep.

Sighing, she got up and got dressed, until he finally lumbered out in his pants and t shirt pyjamas, looking like a zombie. She laughed again, stepping into his wide open arms for a brief hug, then giving him his clothes. She went downstairs, preparing some eggs for him because she had just enough time, and they were his favourite.

He waddled down the stairs, still half asleep. Clara turned toward the door to get the keys, but they weren't there.

'Clara.'

She turned round to him, watching him play with the car keys.

'I'll drive you.'

She knew it would take much longer to get to work if he drove her to the school, but she needed to reassure him that she was normal, even if he didn't know it.

She nodded. 'Okay.'

He gave her a triumphant half-smirk half-smile and ate his eggs, his features rugged and tired, but which she found very attractive. She listened to him talk, all the while running a subtext of fear in her brain for her next mission and the possible dread she would feel of she saw John there again.

They climbed into the car, John steering with as much ease and calm as reading a book.

They arrived in the school car park, and she kissed him goodbye just before getting out of the car. She flashed him a confident smile as he drove off toward the doctors', which she hoped was his destination.

She started the walk along the street, thinking things over. The sun blazed down on her back and she wanted nothing else but to put on her light, black spy dress. At last she got to UNIT, apologising for her unexpected lateness and going over the day's mission with Kate. Apparently it was to be another looking around for clues. The information she had retrieved for UNIT yesterday had put everyone on edge, so everyone was rushing around trying to think up strategies and possible military tactics if the UNIT army soldiers were to be involved.

She set off, heading toward the dreaded compound again. She wanted Missy stopped so badly it made her chest burn. Everyone in the world...and what would she do with it? Her twisted plans and type of humour made Clara's determination pump in her veins and adrenaline coursed through her at the idea of finally ending it.

She managed to sneak her way into the bunker again, which was a lot harder, since they had tightened security from her last visit. But she wasn't the Impossible Girl for nothing. She could always find a loophole.

Surprisingly, her search was prolonged to half an hour, which gained her some important intel and manuals for the machines in the bunker. She hadn't been caught at all, which she thought was unnaturally lucky. Too lucky to be luck at all. Readying her gun she made her way down the corridor and down the stairs, back into the main bunker. She was planning on sidling out, but a sudden bright light appeared, and Clara turned around to see a spotlight outlining the woman. She wore purple and held an umbrella, red lipstick and an updo that made her appear a lot more elegant than Clara guessed she was. She smiled at her, a gnash of teeth like a tiger assessing it's prey, and she knew that this was definitely a new level of crazy. She reminded her of a psychopathic Mary Poppins.

'Well, hello there Clara! I'm Missy.' She introduced politely, smile sinister underneath it's layer of lipstick.

'How do you know my name?' She questioned, her gun pointed exactly where Missy's heart was. If she had one.

'Oh, I know a lot about you. You can't seem to leave this place alone, and I'm sure you would've wanted to meet the leader of everything as soon as possible.'

Her voice had a Scottish accent, which made her think painfully of John. She hoped beyond anything he was safe.

'Well, now, I'm sure you have a lot to tell your friends, don't you? All about me! But I'm sure they won't mind if you get cut a little short because you're hanging out with me. They can figure out the gossip once you're no longer here. Maybe I'll make them play a game! Oh yes, playing games are fun, let's play our very own game, sister.'

Clara's face darkened, and her finger pulled the trigger.

'I'm afraid that Missy is too fine to be shot!' She exclaimed. She took out a rectangular device and pointed it at Clara.

She stepped toward her, smile still plastered on her face.

'This game is called...Dodge the Metal Men.' She smiled coyly, gnashing her teeth together and fiddling about with something. All of a sudden clanks of metal arose, covers being thrown off the oblong contraptions and the machines encircling her. She fired, again and again and again in a last attempt, but the metal men were resilient.

'Oh, come on now, you must have known that wasn't going to work! Why don't you play the game properly? I tell you what, because I'm a nice person, I will tell you everything. Everything! If you defeat my boys!' She laughed.

'You...you are vile and crazy and-'

'Oh yes, I am bananas! I think I'm a little hurt at what you said about being vile, though. Boys, come closer!'

The metal men all took three steps in, trapping her.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled and her hands became sweaty and almost slack on the gun she was holding.

Missy extended her arm even further, the device in her hand pointed directly at Clara's chest.

'Say something nice.'

Clara's eyes were red. Her fists were clenched. Her angelic features were twisted into a venomous look of hatred and disgust at the woman in front of her. Clara didn't say anything.

'Aren't you going to bargain for your life, dear? Or do you prefer the metal men method?'

'I'm not afraid of death. Go on, kill me. Do it. It's your choice. You tell me whether I live or die because you are the one holding the weapon.'

'Oh you're very wise and boring aren't you, sister? Brave, certainly. But dreadfully boring. Y'know, I think I will have a lot more fun if I torture you.'

She smiled again, and Clara felt only one thing in her chest, only one thing that lifted her heart and only one thing that made her stand upright. The beats of her heart seemed to be thumping to the rhythm of his name, and she felt it resound in her head. John Smith, John Smith, John Smith.

She smirked. 'Oh I will enjoy a lot of pain, before I give up any sort of information you're looking for, how long have you got?'

Missy stared back at her, her eyes glassy and smile still composed. She made a pleasing noise, then clapped her hands together in the air like she was starting a dance. 'Come on, boys! Let's take her someplace else.'

Clara heard the smile in her voice, the excitement.

As the metal men came forward, their arms reaching out to seize her, their eyes like blank holes where no human iris could be seen, she wasn't scared at all; she only needed to think of one thing. John Smith.

••••

He was hiding behind the bunker, painfully waiting for the right moment to attack. He could hardly believe he was seeing her like that...so brave yet so beautiful. His eyebrows were drawn together in a murderous expression, his eyes beholding the fire of hell themselves, and his gun was clenched in his steady and iron fist. He was crouched, his legs shaking with adrenaline. He saw the opportunity...and lunged at the circle in the centre of the room, sliding under the gaps between the metal men and knocking himself into Clara, taking her down and shielding her body.

'John!' She said fearfully and incredulously, taking his shoulder and looking at him with her beautiful wide eyes.

He straightened up, looking at Missy with as much hatred as he mustered, which was a lot, in his case. Even some people in Gallifrey hated this look because of his attack eyebrows and scowl. But this was entirely different. This was murder flashing in his eyes like traffic lights. Clara stood up next to him, her eyes also trained on the woman in front of them.

'Well, well, well, Mr and Mrs Smith. I've been seeing a lot of you recently.'

'Then how are we still alive?' He asked, his voice thick with rage.

'I let you both go. I thought it would be a much better game if I had three of you to play with.' She gnashed her teeth again in a huge smile.

'Three?' He asked. He looked to Clara, who looked back with feigned surprise but underlying guilt.

'Now, shall we do something interesting?'

'I've met a lot of psychos. But none as eccentric and malevolent as you.' He told her, finger poised on the trigger.

'I know, I'm quite remarkable, aren't I? One of a kind.'

'Who the hell are you?' Asked Clara.

'I've told you, already. I'm Missy,' she looked pointedly at John, another smile distorting her sharp features, 'otherwise known as The Master.'

John felt sick. His eyes widened, expression aghast, finally recognising the companionable Scottish accent.

'Remember me?' She asked, her eyebrows raised.

'The Master? John, what is she talking about?' Clara looked at him in worry, but he didn't face her.

'She was my friend. My best friend. Aspiring to become top spies, acting out imaginary adventures featuring the Doctor and the Master, covert operation of Gallifrey. The best in the world.' He recited, his eyes looking hurt with remembrance and disappointment.

'Oh, so you do remember. I was worrying you wouldn't catch on. And it's Mistress now, not Master, I'm a lot more feminist now than when we were younger.'

'How could you...' He could hardly speak.

'Well, when you abandoned me for a stand-alone spy job without me I had to get your attention again, didn't I?'

'I...I still don't understand, John...'

Clara turned to him with confusion but also clear understanding. He closed his eyes, sighing angrily at himself. He should have seen a reunion coming.

'Scotland has always been a small place, hasn't it?' Missy clarified for him.

'How did you turn into this...this crazy psychopath? I know I shouldn't have left you, I'm sorry, but you didn't need to become a twisted villain for it!' He shouted. His anger flamed anew, but at himself instead.

'You're going to have to work a lot harder than that if you expect me to forgive you.' She smiled again.

'Do what you want with me, leave Clara alone!'

'I'm afraid I can't do that, you see, your wife has shamelessly shot some of my best people.'

He sighed in frustration.

'Let's go somewhere better. Maybe I can get some tea while we're at it.'

She surveyed their faces. 'Oh come on, cheer up, we're gonna have a wonderful time!'

She clapped her hands again, and the metal men walked forward, both taking John and Clara by the shoulders and soldiering them along. They squirmed, trying to wriggle their way out of their iron grip. Missy pranced ahead, umbrella swinging in her hand.

Clara turned to him with difficulty, watching him struggle.

'Y'know, there was nothing wrong with treating patients.'

'There was nothing wrong from teaching English, either!'

Missy turned to them, grinning.

'Do you really think that both of you meeting was coincidence?' She laughed.

They stared at her, bewildered.

'What do you mean?' He asked harshly.

'You didn't think it was sheer luck meeting him in the bar, did you? Do you remember the one who told you to walk in there?'

'It was you,' Clara whispered, 'You were the one who told me to walk into that bar. You made us meet. And for what? So we can both be murdered?'

'Well, you gotta hand it to me...I'm a good matchmaker. Y'know, maybe I'll advertise. Two spies, together, lying to each other. Priceless. You should see the look on your faces.' She laughed.

'Missy...please, don't do this.' He pleaded.

'No thanks. I've already set my sights on the Bahamas. And the rest of the world, for that matter. Would you like to watch it burn?'

He lunged toward her, his arms held back by the metal creatures.

She only laughed, walking toward him, close enough that they were nose to nose. She whispered in his ear, something that made him shout and struggle painfully against the hold on him.

Missy drew back, a toothy grin plastered on her face, while her words rang in his head as painful as punches to the face were. 'You can watch her die first.' The words made his heart break and his chest bubble with the deepest sort of hatred he possessed. More than anything, making him sick.

They arrived in a small room, clustered together with all the creatures and he could feel Clara's breath on his neck. He took her hand gently, hoping that they would stay together even if they died.

'Now, let's get started. What about we start with tying you down so you can't escape?'

'Go on then. I'm sure I saw a McDonald's on the way here, you could go get us a burger, no pickles, extra bacon. Courtesy of the end of the world.'

'I've always loved your sarcasm. I've missed it, really.'

'That's good to know. Maybe you'll miss my deceptive side, too.' He smirked, revealing a bracelet taken from her wrist.

'Clara, now!' He shouted, and she pointed Missy's weapon at her.

The strike of the beam of red light caused a distraction, but she managed to duck just in time.

They ran out the room, John shouting a command to stop into the bracelet, hopefully disabling the metal creatures. With a triumphant shout, they ran together, firing in every direction in case they were being chased. They had reached the bunker, and Missy had finally caught up. Clara held the gun, ready to shoot, but he stopped her.

'What are you doing?'

'I'm just not letting you kill her.'

'Just because she's your childhood friend! She's going to end the world!'

'I don't want to see you kill her. I'll do it.'

He took the gun from her hands, dropping it on the floor.

He turned to where Missy was standing. She smiled, which unnerved him. He didn't think she would be smiling if she knew she was about to be killed.

She clapped her hands once again, running back out an undiscovered exit. John stared at the little red light beeping. Clara pulled his arm, and they ran their fastest, trying to escape the compound. They climbed up the barbed wire and landed on the other side, running away from the building as it exploded, deafening to the ears. John took her hand, and she watched him run as fast as they both could. The explosion caused flying debris to land in their path, the smoke to distort the smell of their clothes, but they were alive, they were running, and they were together. They ran all the way until they were a great distance from the explosion, and on the streets. They caught their breath and she collapsed into his arms.

'Where is your base?' She asked him.

'Gallifrey. Secret and underground.'

'We'll go there, then.'

'What about yours?'

'UNIT. But I don't want to go back there yet.'

'Okay.'

He took her arm and they ran again, but then they stopped, and he fell to the ground. Fire curled out of the base, smoke rising. It had been bombed, the whole base, and Clara crouched down with him, telling him she was sorry but he hardly heard. He just saw rage. He just heard the crackling of flames licking up every nook and cranny of what was once the most covert and amazing spy base in the country. His head hung in shame and he noticed a piece of paper, tucked under a bright orange cone. He grabbed it, his face going red and his whole body filled with revenge.

A note, saying 'I'll see you soon!' With an 'M' underneath it, written big and bold in the same way it stuck in his mind. He scrunched the paper up furiously, eyebrows heavy with more anger, and threw it in the fire, watching it curl, blacken and turn into ash.

They opened the door, and John felt just a little bit safer. He looked at Clara, her enormous brown eyes looking back at him, and all he could do was let out a shaky sigh of relief and pull her into his arms.

'Are you okay?'

'I'm fine.' She murmured, trying to keep in tears, 'I'm so sorry, John, about what happened to Gallifrey.'

'It's okay, it wasn't your fault.'

'And about Missy, and about lying to you-'

'Clara, Clara, look at me. It isn't your fault. None of this is your fault, so don't blame yourself for everything that's happened, especially when we both lied to each other. It's my fault.'

She pushed away from him, eyes blazing into his soul accusingly.

'It isn't your fault either!'

'Yes, Clara, it is. I was the one who abandoned her, filled her with false hope of becoming a spy team together when we were younger, I was the one that made her into a psychopath that plans to destroy the world, I am responsible for Gallifrey burning up with people still inside it and as a result, I am the one who almost got you killed!' He shouted, his eyebrows moving independently of his expression.

She shook her head at him.

'None of this was caused by you! It was all Missy, she was the one that started it all.'

'No, I started it all. In Scotland, the day I became her best friend.'

'Can we focus on what's actually happened here, John? She's still out there with a plan and we need to stop her from doing it. Don't waste your time blaming yourself for something you haven't done! You might have given her the weapon, but you weren't the one who pulled the trigger.'

'Don't!' He shouted, pointing a finger at her. 'Don't give me any of those metaphors! Don't switch back to your English teacher act and make out that I didn't cause anything because I did! I did, and there's nothing I can do about that now!'

'Change the future, then! You can't change the past, but together we can change the future, stop her plan.'

'Shut up, shut up, shut up, you're doing my head in, Clara. Do you think that being intelligent and teacher-like is going to help anything?'

'I'm trying to help you!'

'Are you? Because you're making it sound like it's easy, stopping her and saving the world with a few minutes spare to eat a sandwich, but it's nothing at all like that!'

'You're forgetting that I'm a trained spy too, I know what I'm saying and that it's not going to be easy! Or did it slip your mind when you were too busy blaming yourself to notice?'

'Well, Missy is still out there and we're not safe, so what do you recommend we do?' He sighed frustratedly, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to think.

She walked toward him, putting her hands on his shoulders and giving him a trusting and determined look.

'We can do this. The Doctor and his Impossible Girl. The top two spies of the country, fighting to keep the nation safe again, we can do it.'

'And how?' He asked. Clara threw her hands up into the air exasperatedly, sighing.

'Work out a plan, figure out how she's doing it, maybe working together through a strategy, get more weapons, and I can get UNIT to help.'

She looked at him and John felt a twinge of guilt in his stomach for shouting at her.

'Okay, okay. We'll do this, the two of us.' He smiled, taking her hand. She nodded in agreement.

'Wait...three. Missy said the three of us, why did she say the three of us?' He questioned, his voice running wild.

'That isn't important right now, John.'

'Yes, it is!'

'Look, we need to start doing this if we want to succeed, so stop talking about pointless things and start talking to me about weapons and tactics!' She told him, smiling encouragingly.

He smiled flatteringly at her, shaking his head.

'I never thought I'd ever hear those words come out of your mouth.'

She laughed.

'Well, you better get used to it.' She raised her eyebrows, taking his hand and pulling him along.

'Oh, I could definitely get used to it.' He replied, and he let her pull him toward the kitchen table.

They spent the rest of the day working out a plan, and it wasn't until twelve o'clock that Clara had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He gently woke her up, smiling at the sounds she made when waking, and held her hand while walking up the stairs, with the intention that he would never let go.

He lay beside her, thinking over what they had been planning and marvelling at the beauty of it, for it seemed that when both their minds where put together, it created a spectacular outcome. Two spies together. It seemed funny when he thought of it like that, especially when he had completely underestimated her and thought she was so innocent to a life of danger. It made him laugh. After seeing the things she could do with a gun and the way she organised tactics he could only admire her dangerous and darker side, which he thought was quite attractive. Her round eyes looked up at him and her smile brightened the dimly lit room, reaching the dimples he loved and the way her eyebrows raised slightly.

'We can do this. This is possible.'

'I agree. It's definitely possible, for someone so impossible.'

She laughed.

'We should go to sleep, we need to get up early.'

'Yep.' She agreed, a set face of determination making himself just as confident.

With the reminder of her encouraging words repeating in his head, he finally allowed himself to drift off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Clara's eyes flashed open. Today was it. Together, they would bring down Missy and stop the world from burning.

She climbed out of bed just as John woke up. Staring at her, he grinned, and his words gave her an encouraging amount of strength.

'Let's rock n' roll.'

He rolled out of bed to prove his point and slowly put his RayBans on.

Clara laughed at the way he thought he was so rockstar, badass cool.

Which, in actual fact, wasn't too far from the truth.

She put her black tank too and jeans on, leather jacket to complete. John was all made up in his usual shirt, red velvet and plaid combination.

He threw her a gun, which she tucked into the back of her jeans, pulling the jacket over it, all the while relaying rock songs in her head, for the moment seemed to echo the action scenes in a movie.

Twirling past him, he slung a long rifle and a knife into her belt. He smiled at her, raising his eyebrows. All she could do was reply with a wicked grin and an air of rebel-ness that seemed to cling to her.

When they had geared up they both slung long coats over themselves to conceal what was beneath them.

Going over the plan once more they strode out and headed to the compound with a new, refreshingly confident and reckless attitude.

They walked all the way there, John constantly looking tough and dangerous with his sunglasses on, which she wasn't fooled by.

She knew that back at home he was a terrible sucker for crime TV series' and one flick of her eyebrows he would become almost vulnerable.

It made her laugh quietly inside.

They strode up to the doors of the bunker, both pushing them open.

The empty bunker was devoid of the metal men, which meant they were with Missy. And it seemed she had planned their arrival.

As soon as they stepped in they were fired at, rows of guards taking them by surprise. But it didn't take long for them to react.

They took out their huge guns simultaneously and shot back at them, Clara looking extremely impressive while she fired it in one hand. John was already gunning down the last few and turning to help her with the rest.

Once they were all lying on the floor motionless, he turned to Clara, noticing the way she held her shoulder delicately. He held it, looking at the wound.

'Are you okay?'

'I'm fine.' She nodded with finality.

John couldn't let himself worry about her; she knew exactly what she was doing.

'Then let's go.' Raising his eyebrows, they sprinted off and turned left, running through the complex and shooting down as many guards as they could find.

Then they found out the next part of Missy's plan.

Two metal men came up behind them, but they were too quick.

Rolling and sliding underneath them, they ran all the way along to the next corridor, the creatures chasing them.

It seemed Missy had found another way to control them without the bracelet. John chucked it to the ground, realising it wouldn't work.

But as they made their way into an open space, a dozen or so metal creatures encircled them.

John grinned at Clara.

Oh, they had gotten this plan down to a fine point.

They went back to back, revolving around in a circle, both of them facing each sides of the creatures. They drew closer to them, and Clara pressed herself harder into his back.

'John, your dentist appointment was today, should I reschedule?'

'Well, you're going to have to.'

'And you have to remember to get some milk, we're running low.'

'Clara, have you still not gotten the milk?'

'I've been busy. And I did the shopping last time.'

'Fine. Anything else?'

'Well, we need to remember to buy the new series of that adventure TV program and there's a dozen metal creatures coming toward us.'

'Ah, good.'

They stopped moving, and there was a second of silence where nothing happened. Clara's breathing became louder and she smiled, the feeling of working together with John overwhelming her, appreciating his body right behind her, breathing just as loudly.

And then they sprung into action.

The creatures moved even further, and they took out their guns, firing the bullets into the eyeless sockets one by one. It was working. It was actually working.

John shouted with triumph, shooting down another one.

Clara focused on the eyes, smiling at the cunning of their plan, how she had thought to try silver darts into the only vulnerability they had: the eyes.

Down they all went, making huge crashing noises as they hit the floor in defeat. She turned round, squealing triumphantly and leaning on tiptoe to kiss him.

They probably hung on a lot longer than they were supposed to, because a voice sounded from the doorway to their left.

'Am I interrupting something? This a bad time?'

They withdrew to see Missy standing there, a bored expression on her face.

They ran for her, ready to knock her down to the ground, but as soon as they had reached her, she disappeared.

Clara looked up at the ceiling while John got himself up from the floor.

'Hologram.' She said, and John have a weary expression.

'She must be somewhere.'

'Unless she's somewhere else. She could've put the hologram here to trick us.'

'No, that isn't...that isn't possible.' He gasped.

'Then how?'

'Because to project a speaking hologram would require the person to be no more than a few metres away.'

Clara looked up at the ceiling again.

'In what direction?' She asked.

'Any.' He said, looking up at where her eyes were.

'Well, I think I've found her.'

They raced up to the stairs, climbing three at a time and making their way toward the hologram.

She wasn't there. Of course she wasn't the. John picked up the hologram projector and Missy appeared again, smiling that twisted grin of hers, revealing all her teeth.

'Come find me.'

'Oh, don't you worry about that.'

He told it, and they sprinted forward to find another set of stairs. Propelling themselves forward with guns held firmly in their hands, they made their way up the third floor. Checking the corridors, John knew she wasn't there.

Remembering the helicopter pad on the roof, his eyes widened and he looked at Clara.

'I think I might know where she is.'

They set off for the roof, making it just in time to see Missy, near the edge.

'I told you this game would be fun!'

She said, umbrella once again swinging in her hand. Clara wanted nothing else but to push her off the edge of the building and snap her stupid umbrella in half and burn it.

'Yes, very well played. What I don't get, though, is why you're still here with a helicopter and you haven't tried to escape.'

'Oh, I'm not escaping,' she said, 'I'm going home.' She said the words meaningfully. 'To Scotland.'

'You haven't told us why you're still here!' Clara readied her gun, pointing it at her head.

'Oh, you're very brave aren't you? I would almost admire it if I wasn't so self-obsessed.' She smiled again.

'What are you still doing here?' He shouted, walking towards her and pointing his gun at her chest.

'That's no way to treat a friend, is it?'

'Tell me!'

'I was waiting,' she explained heavily, 'for you.'

'Me?'

'Yes, you. We're going back to Scotland and becoming spies together, like you promised.' She said.

'All this? All this to get him to come to Scotland with you?' Clara asked.

'Well, there is a bigger plot twist.'

'What plot twist, what are you doing?' He shouted again, his face turning redder and his eyebrows crossing.

'I'll tell you on the way.' She said, tapping the helicopter with her long nails.'

John looked at her venomously.

'There is no way...'

'Oh, I think you'll come with me.' She smiled again, and chucked something silver toward a Clara, where it encircled her, so she couldn't get out.

'Clara! No, what have you done to her?' He asked, rushing to Clara, his sunglasses dropping from his eyes and watching her pound against an invisible wall. She tried to fire her gun, but the bullets rebounded.

'Clara, Clara, can you hear me? I will get you out, Clara, I promise.' He said, and she raised her hand to where his was, the wall separating them.

'It's okay.' She said, calmly.

John stared at her, then turned back to Missy.

'Stop what you are doing!' He demanded, 'What do you want with me?'

'I've told you! You and I, spies, taking over the world! Finally, reunited and strong. We'll reinvent the world!' She replied passionately.

'All of this, for me? Burning down the world just so we can take over? No way in hell am I coming with you.' He spat.

'Oh well, I think you need a little more persuasion, then.'

She snapped her fingers, and the silver thing at Clara's feet glowed red. It rose up until it reached her face and she began to cough violently.

She doubled over, dropping her gun, trying to breathe, coughing and coughing endlessly.

'Clara! Clara!' He ran over to her, and turned to Missy, who looked on happily.

'Stop! Stop it!' He yelled at her.

'No thanks.' She replied, filing her nails.

'Clara, Clara, I will get you out of there, I promise! Clara, hang in there. Clara!' John slammed against the wall, his face fury and panic as she watched her drop to the floor, her lifeless body making him sick.

'Clara!' He yelled again, a shout of desperation.

'Oh, Clara, Clara, Clara, I'm getting bored of you saying her name over and over again. You sound demented. Maybe I should just shoot her.'

'Bring her back!' He strode to her, almost stumbling in fury.

'Bring her back, now!' He screamed.

'Relax, Scottie boy, she's still alive. She just hasn't got much oxygen left.' She smiled.

'So, you either come with me,' she continued, 'and she lives...or you refuse, and you get to watch your pretty little Clara die.'

He stared at her and jammed the gun into her neck forcefully.

'Maybe I'll just kill you.' He said, murder clear in his voice.

'Not if you want Clara to live,' she taunted, 'you won't be able to restore the oxygen before she drops off.' She sung.

Clara's fingers twitched. All she had done was think of how much she loved John Smith, and she was coming back to her senses. Her eyes opened. She knew what to do. Her shaking fingers reached into her jacket, producing a contraption that flashed red.

'Fine.' He said to her, scowling.

'Now, release her.'

'Not until you're all strapped up in the helicopter ready to go.' She replied, smiling again. He looked back at Clara, her body sprawled on the floor. His eyes physically hurt from seeing her like that. He closed his eyes, wishing it was all a dream, that he would wake up with Clara tucked in his arms, safe and protected. But he opened his eyes to disappointment, feeling the wind ruffle his hair that reminded him too painfully of when Clara would ruffle it, her fingers threading through his curls like it was precious gold. His heart broke.

He stepped into the helicopter, strapping in. Missy climbed in next to her.

'Now, release her!' He told her.

Missy snapped her fingers again, and Clara took a deep breath, lifting herself up from the floor, stepping outside the wall that was now no longer there.

She looked at him as they lifted up into the air, slowly ascending, and he looked back at her. They stared, her expression tearful and alone, and he stared back regretfully and sorrowful, tears finally springing to his eyes. They stared at each other for what seemed like eternity, and even as she grew smaller and smaller, he could still see her face staring up at him, full of love and sadness and want.

Clara watched, her heart breaking, her face tearing up. And then, she remembered. She hit the flashing red button, and it stopped. The helicopter came to a halt in midair, and John looked down to see her holding up the light. His eyes sparkled, his smile returned and his heart slowly pieced itself together with love and hope for the woman standing beneath him.

'What? What's happened?' Missy exclaimed, reaching forward to consult the pilot. John turned to her, grinning.

'I'm sorry. But it was all part of the plan.'

'What? No! No, stop it!'

John retrieved the walkie talkie from his pocket and spoke into it.

'Are you there, Kate? Good job. Now, come forward and drop me off at the roof.' He said. Missy watched him in disbelief.

A voice broke through the intercom, and Kate's voice sounded.

'This is UNIT, and you are surrounded.'

A black helicopter made it's way round, and John unstrapped his belt. He turned to Missy once more.

'I wouldn't try to escape. Well, goodbye, Missy. And...even after everything you've done...I'm sorry.' He said, his eyes truthful.

He stepped over and onto the helicopter beside it, taking a seat next to Osgood.

They descended, and landed back on the roof. John jumped out, running to Clara with as much speed as he had, shouting, 'My Clara!'

He crashed into her arms, lifting her up and spinning her around, his nose buried in her shoulder, his eyes closed with relief and happiness. He didn't let go for a long time, and he could feel Clara's increase of heart rate at the unexpected spinning. He found her ear, and whispered 'I love you.'

She looked at him, her eyes wide.

'I love you too.' She nodded, reaching up to kiss him.

His arms tightened around her and he lifted her up again.

Kate sounded in the walkie talkie, interrupting them.

'Would you like a lift home?'

'That would be appreciated.' He said back.

They entered the helicopter, Kate praising and congratulating them, but John hardly heard.

As they lifted into the air, he held on tight to Clara, her head leant on hers, kissing her face and praising her.

He looked back down at the roof of the compound, and wished never to see it again.

As they rose among the clouds, the wind ruffling both their hairs, John looked at her nestled under him, and Clara looked up at him with the same expression. Of endless, deep devotion.

A/N - I hope I conveyed the scene where they are just looking at each other (when John is in the helicopter) okay bc I wanted it to be a powerful, profound and heartbreaking moment. How they're looking at each other is basically like Jack and Rose from the Titanic when Rose is in the boat and they are just staring at each other (which is my favourite bit) so if it lacked any emotion, just think of how they were looking at each other like Jack and Rose and that's what I wanted :)

Last chapter will be written as soon as

(And I might also do a sequel)


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

They walked hand in hand toward the front door, not really saying anything, but the silence once again conveying all that they needed to.

Clara leant into his white shirt, still clean despite, and she watched him as he fumbled with the door keys.

'Are you just going to keep staring at me, or will help me open this damn door?'

'Back to usual so soon.' She replied, taking the keys from him and easily turning the lock.

'For a moment there you were being way too sentimental.'

'And you were being way too clingy.'

'I am not clingy!'

'You're a control freak then, who forgets the milk and changes mood within two seconds.'

'I am not a control freak.' She said slowly, walking toward the kitchen.

'Debatable.' He answered, walking up behind her.

'Tea? You've just come back from a near death experience and you want tea? I'll never understand you. I'm getting the rum.'

'Not too much. Can you remember what happened last time, John?'

'No, should I?'

She sighed, making her way over to the couch where he was now sitting, opening a bottle of alcohol.

'You have completely ruined the moment, now.'

'How?'

'By acting all arrogant and ignorant. Five minutes ago you wouldn't dare let go of me.'

'Where's the vocab coming from, English teacher? Oh, right you're not one.'

She leaned into his shoulder, trying not to smile but failing.

'Shut up.'

'Clara?'

'Yes?'

'What do you say we watch the crime series again before it needs to be returned?'

'A day of action and murder and terror and it's not enough for you?'

'I'm a spy. I can never have enough crime.'

They laughed, and John held her once again in his arms as the titles rolled.

After 2 hours of watching TV and Clara began to replay the events of the day repeatedly. Over and over, it wouldn't leave her mind, seeing John in that helicopter, nearly leaving her forever.

It made her insecure.

'Hey, what's the matter?' He asked, watching her bury her face into his jacket.

'I didn't think it was scary.'

'Not the TV series you idiot.' She replied, her words slightly muffled.

Clearly seeing Clara was hurting in some way, he turned the TV off and dropped all sarcasm and remarks. He picked up on his sentimental side, which was a real thing, he knew. Clara had been right, there has always been the caring and emotional and loving side to him that he doesn't want to admit too, but shines through regardless. He knew how much of an asshole he was being for so suddenly switching his demeanour after a scarring ordeal had happened only hours earlier. He was being insensitive, he knew. But the truth was only that he wasn't, that he only wanted to act like everything was normal and wanted to put it behind him as quickly as possible.

Love coursed through his unworthy heart for the small brunette lying at his chest and guilt for dismissing her pain so flippantly.

He slowly lifted her up, taking her shoulder and looking her deep in the eyes.

'Clara...tell me what's wrong.'

She was shaking under him, and his desire to fix whatever it was that was bothering her grew strong.

'I can't stop relaying everything in my head.'

'I know, I'm sorry.'

'It's okay. You need me as much as I need you.' She sniffed.

'What's bothering you so much?'

A small silence fell between them, and then Clara took his face in her hands. John turned his whole body toward her, crossing his legs.

'You wouldn't have actually left me...would you?'

His eyes narrowed in confusion, and then widened as he understood what she was saying.

'No, no, no way would I ever do that to you! Clara, look at me, I didn't know if it would work, but it did, and even if that helicopter had set off to Scotland, I would always come back. If I was halfway round the world, or in the deepest parts of space, or in a completely different time zone I would still come back for you. You have to understand that, Clara. I didn't know what was going to happen. I swear I nearly blasted Missy's goddammed brains out when you started choking. I had no idea about any of it except a hunch that she might use the helicopter. But I would never ever leave you, not even in death.'

She smiled tearily at him, her heart bearing faster at his beautiful words and gorgeous face.

'Come here.' He said softly, opening up his arms into a proper embrace and pulling her onto him. She wrapped her arms around him, shutting her eyes tight, kissing his shoulder and neck and playing with his hair again.

'I love you, Clara, and that's never, ever going to change for one millisecond, or heartbeat or lightwave.'

She hugged him harder, sending tendrils of shock down his spine. Finally, she drew away to stare at his truthful face.

'See, you change within minutes.' She laughed.

'I know, but that's just me. Can't help it.'

'I love you the way you are. And I wouldn't change anything.'

She sealed his lips and held him closer, making sure he was real and alive and hers. He kissed back with as much passion as she had hoped and his hands tugged on her hair, her legs now wrapping around his waist and everything around her melting away to nothing.

His kisses became deeper until he lost his balance and sunk into the couch, sliding down until his head was on the armrest and she was lying on top of him, legs intertwined. Her hands roamed his upper torso, slipping underneath his red jacket to his shirt, and she finally felt safe and relieved that she no longer had to worry. She tugged his jacket off and wrapped her arms around his neck as he held her close to him. He removed her jacket too, sliding his hands up and down her arms and feeling her soft and warm skin beneath the top she was wearing. John felt overwhelmed, kissing her with as much love and energy he could, his muscles relaxed under her touch.

She was the only one who could do this to him. Separate him, unravel him from his usual grumpy self and turn him into a sensitive mess inside. All he knew was that it took a lot longer for other people than Clara. She could do it within seconds.

Clara withdrew to look at him and he threaded his fingers through her short hair, closed eyes and faint smile appearing at his touch. Her head rested under his chin, and stayed there for a moment until she sprang up again. He could see something was making her restless.

'John...we shouldn't be spies anymore.'

She wasn't making any eye contact, which suggested to him that she didn't want to give up the job.

'We can.' He reassured her.

'Actually, the term is more 'can't.'

'How do we pay for everything, then.'

'I think we should live a normal life. Plus Gallifrey burnt down and I don't know if you'd want to join UNIT after that.'

'Normal life...normal jobs...' He thought out loud, pondering over what she had said. No risk of dying or never seeing the other again, no wounds, no danger. A quiet, peaceful life. No more adrenaline or guns or running about. No more lying, no more worrying. He could picture it, living normally and happily with Clara, and it have him an aching pain of want in his heart. But being a spy wasn't just a job, it was part of him. As much a part of him as Clara was, and he knew she felt the same way about it too.

'Look, I know it's going to be hard. I know we're going to miss it a lot, I know I will. But I don't want to come home every night and panic over you not coming home or the possibility of being shot...or worse. I can't start every day knowing that you will be in danger and that there is more chance than normal of you...' She took a breath, not wanting to say the word, 'going.' She finished.

He nodded, understanding her terms completely.

'I wouldn't want that for you, either.'

'I know. And even if you carried on with spying, I know that I would too, and I can't. Today was as much a risk as I ever want to take again.'

'What should we do?'

'You know what? Do what you've always done...be a doctor.'

He smiled at that, gazing at her beautiful face and perfect features.

'And what will you do?'

'I might as well try to teach English to teenagers.'

'Good luck.'

She smiled, eyes wide with knowing. 'I'm going to need it.'

Silence interrupted them for a moment, until Clara asked him the question.

'So, a normal life, normal job, normal everything, and no more than any usual danger or worry or panic. A normal life of watching TV, going shopping, actually eating dinner with me. What do you say?'

John knew the answer before she had said it. As much as he wanted to hold on to his exhilarating and exciting life of being a spy, he knew that she was right in saying that they wouldn't get any sleep at night because they were too worried about each other. He couldn't endure what he had today every day, watching her nearly dying and hurting and heartbroken at his near absence. He knew he wouldn't be able to cope with it. He knew they needed to live an apple pie life, be ordinary people and work ordinary jobs, blend in with everyone else sane and normal in the world. A strong part of him wanted it desperately, so he held onto it, and gave Clara his answer.

'I say we should go job-hunting.' He grinned, watching her expression break in delight. She kissed him again and laughed.

'Well, not for me right now, anyway.'

'No, you're right, maybe we should sit down and eat dinner like normal people and shop for clothes and food and milk first.'

'No, I didn't mean that.' She said.

'What do you mean?'

'That I can't.'

'Can't, it's that word again, why do you keep saying you can't?'

'Because there's three of us now.'

'And that word! Three of us...do we have a ghost following us now?' He said seriously. Clara looked mockingly at him, still not believing he hadn't caught on.

'No,' she said again, taking his hands in hers and placing them on her stomach, 'there's three of us.' She emphasised, and she watched his bewildered face as realisation struck him like lightning and his eyes widened.

'Oh.' He responded.

'Oh? You've just learnt that there's going to be a little you running around and that's all you say? You better be prepared.' She warned him, laughing.

He didn't quite look at her, still comprehending what she had said.

'Why didn't you tell me?'

'Because I couldn't let yourself get caught up in this when you were spying, it would've ruined the plan and ruined you.'

John knew there was truth behind her words. He just felt so sorry that she had carried the truth all by herself while nearly dying, and watching him almost leave.

'Clara, I am so sorry for what it must have caused you. Knowing while nearly dying and me nearly leaving, I'm so sorry. And I promise a perfect, normal life with me and little spy.'

She snorted. 'He or she is not going to become a spy!'

'Okay.' He smiled.

'And...it's okay.'

'All the pain you must have felt...'

'John, for what it's worth, all the pain I felt earlier is almost nothing compared to my absolute relief that we are all alive. You don't have to feel guilty or sorry for me because I've already dismissed it, okay? I am more than fine now. You don't know how ecstatically happy I am that we made it out of there. All three of us.' She said, her arms wrapped around his neck again.

He nodded, smiling.

'John?'

'Yeah?'

'You know you're going to have to actually look after a child?'

'Yes.'

'And paint it's bedroom.'

'Yes.'

'And spend a lot of money on it.'

He stared up at her.

'How much?' He asked fearfully.

'A lot more than you would think.' She laughed at his horror-filled expression.

'Okay.' He said, and she hugged him.

'Baby food, baby clothes, baby everything. And I think I'm starting to worry about you more than it.'

'It's fine.'

'Really?'

'No, but yes.'

She laughed again, closing her eyes and thanking every living thing for being alive and with John.

'So, I think maybe we should start to prepare for a normal life by eating a proper dinner?' He asked, and she agreed.

'Yep, but we need to go shopping for actual food first.'

'We have food, don't we?'

'Yes, but not proper dinner food. We need to go shopping.'

'My feet are tired,' he complained, 'and we are spies. We don't go to the shops for dinner food.'

'Ex-spies,' she corrected, 'and that right there is normal life. It's going to get harder if you complain.'

He thought about it, wanting to prepare as much as he could but not wanting to change anything about this moment.

'I'm really tired. Can we just start a normal life tomorrow?'

'No, we're doing it now. Come on.' She pulled his arm, trying to get him up. Grumbling, he got to his feet.

'I can't wait to see how you're going to cope with a baby.' She laughed.

'I don't think I'll be able to.'

Shaking her head, she took his hand.

'Come on, you're living a normal life now.'

Clara opened the door, and John looked at her eager face.

'Here goes nothing.'

••••

It wasn't like John hasn't been to the shops before; he had been quite a few times. But going now with Clara, convincing himself he was a normal person, made it so much more surreal.

'Look, Clara, have you seen this? They have a whole aisle for baby stuff. Nothing else. Why...'

'Okay, come on, that's enough.' She told him.

'I'm just saying. I never really knew about all that. Since I was eight the only thing I focused on was becoming a spy.'

'Yeah, me too, now shut up and talk about normal things.'

'I don't get why spies aren't normal. I mean, we're still human beings.'

'Well that's debatable in your case, John. And spies are normal, in movies. Being one is a lot different.'

'I know, I'm just saying...fish fingers.' He said, grabbing a bag from the freezers. 'I like fish fingers.'

Clara raised her eyebrows. 'Okay then. Fish fingers it is.'

'Can we get custard, too?'

'Excuse me?'

'Fish fingers and custard. I want...fish fingers and custard.'

'Okay, one, that isn't a dinner meal, two, definitely not, and three, you've been watching too much of that adventure program, haven't you? Sometimes I can't keep up. You switch from adventure, to crime, to horror and you expect me to catch up with everything, do you realise that when you weren't spying you were spending all that time watching them? You won't be after nine months, no way.'

She added, chucking in a bag of peas.

'Well, you can't blame me for being a spy and not being cut out to be a dad.'

'Do you think it's just you? I'm still freaking out about it too.'

He took her hand again, smiling down at her. She glanced up, raising her eyebrows again.

'But I am excited.' He told her. She smiled, shaking her head and moving forward down the aisle. Maybe being normal wasn't so hard.

They had eaten dinner, which John had appreciated a lot. He hadn't realised that being a spy had really drained him each day, making effort only sometimes to eat food.

But as Clara climbed into bed and shuffled up to him, he realised that living a normal life made him appreciate a lot more things, instead of constantly having serial killers and psychopaths on his mind. He actually couldn't wait to start a job and a family. It was also the little things they would be able to do more often, like go to places, maybe see the world, live a little more outside knives and guns. He wrapped his arms round her stomach and buried his nose in her sweet smelling hair, making him feel safe and relaxed.

'Clara.'

'Mhm?'

'Thank you so much for suggesting a normal life.'

'Okay, why?'

'Because I'm getting excited, Clara. About all the places we can go, of getting a job, of having a little one running around, it's made me really happy.'

'Well, that's really good to know, because I am too.'

He couldn't see her face, but he knew she was smiling.

'I finally feel safe.'

'Me too.' She answered, her hands holding his.

'And I love you, Clara Smith.'

'I love you too, John Oswald.'

He smiled, kissing her hair and falling asleep with the notion of having everything he never thought he would, but everything he wanted.

•••

A/N - The last chapter! Hope I did okay. And thanks again to every one who took the time to read this.


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